


Kiss By The Book

by louisovermyknee



Series: One Shots/Smut [9]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, One Shot, Punishment, References to Hamlet, References to Shakespeare, Smut, Student Harry, Teacher Louis, Teacher-Student Relationship, writing lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisovermyknee/pseuds/louisovermyknee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis, the teacher, catches Harry, the failing student, in the act of passing notes in class. He decides to give him extra credit by doing something ... special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss By The Book

**Harry POV**

            There’s always something about the month of May that makes me happy. My parents have suggested that it was the warm weather but my friends and I both knew it was because summer was on the horizon. It made me smile to think that the end of my school days were only a month away. As a reaction, I had condemned myself to just drift away from my school work for a while. Then again, that was the cause of my troubles.

I had a B- in English to begin with. Soon, I was rocking a C+. Then, there was the disastrous downfall that had me between the edge of passing and going Down with a capital D. the teacher that taught English was a fine looking man everyone knew as Mr. Tomlinson. He was a funny guy to get to know and you could tell that he truly admired theatre because of his interest in the play we were studying. He was the crush of many girls in school but nobody knew that I had a desire for him as well.

Shakespeare is all fun and games until it comes to understanding what they’re actually saying. Sometimes I wonder how our ancestors used to talk like that. Then there are times when I don’t believe they did at all. Maybe the guy was just a nut. I don’t really know. Either way, I didn’t mind watching the movie but reading was ticking me off.

“How stand I then, That have a father killed, a mother stained, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep—while, to my shame, I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slain? Oh, from this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!”

 “OK, class, what he is potentially trying to express is blah blah blah, blah-blah, blah blah blah-blah.”

I was resting my hand on the side of my cheeks not giving a care in the world what he was trying to teach. Sure Hamlet was contemplating how to avenge his father’s death but I could most definitely care less. My friend Michael who sat in the desk next to mine nudged me. He was the only objective that prevented me from falling asleep.

“Psst,” he whispered and waved his note in my direction. It was obvious that he wanted my attention and I had to answer him. My fingers clamped around the note that was folded carelessly. I unraveled the paper without even thinking.

_Hey, wanna hang out tonight?_

I thought back for a moment to see if I had any specific plans for that night. I could not think of anything, so I immediately grabbed for the pen I always carried around. Flipping to the back of the paper, I replied to my friend.

_Sure, I can do that._

I refolded the note and passed it to Michael. I looked up to see that Mr. Tomlinson had stopped lecturing for a moment. It was nice to finally have some peace from his continuous voice but the silence would not last forever. Besides, he just took a break to write something down at his desk. He looked directly up at me once he was finished. It made me suspicious then my teacher transformed into a normal speaker once again.

“So, as I was saying, there will be a quiz at the end of the week and we’ll start the next act tomorrow.”

He informed the class as he walked over to my desk. He was folding his own little paper as he spoke as well. He then paused at my desk for a split-second. Mr. Tomlinson eyed me with a visage that was half-way between I-know-what-you’re-doing and hello-fellow-student. He dropped his paper down on my desk. It was my excuse not to look at him anymore. I opened it after he finally walked away.

_If you can do that, I’m sure you can stay after class as well._

_Well, great, caught in the act._  I thought to myself. I turned to Michael who was expressing the same expression as I was. I didn’t know what he wanted with e exactly but I could take a wild guess.

**.           .           .**

            The bell rang dominating my ear drums. Everyone paraded out the door as I remained in my desk. Sometimes, I thought that my ears would explode into a bloody mess since the P.A. was installed just above my spot in class.

            “Good luck” Michael mouthed a message to me; “See you tonight.”

            “Good-bye” I whispered back and then turned my attention to Mr. Tomlinson. He expressed a casual face as if nothing was wrong. However, that was not the case. Why would he want me to stay after if there was nothing to be bothered about? Sure, Michael and I were passing notes but that is a minor infraction. I should say ‘distraction’ but school conduct was such a specific issue.

            “Mr. T?” his head perked up.

            “Harry, have a seat.”

            He directed me to the rolling chair that sat near his desk. We were never allowed to sit in that chair unless it was for a necessary cause. I got up from my desk to sit myself down on the soft, lumpy cushion. I wheeled over to him with full eye contact and a smile that was sheepishly fooling. It was like I could hear what he was thinking.

             _What is this kid doing?_  Mr. Tomlinson would say;  _cheeky and mischievous he is._  I waited for my teacher to speak with my attention that was not directed to him previously.

            “So, Harry,” he began, “it has come to my attention that you have been passing notes in class today.”

            I saw this coming a mile away. “Yes, it is true.”

            “And what can be so important that involves you stepping away from my lecture to speak to a friend?”

             _Because you’re speech was boring, that’s why;_  was what I wanted to say to him but I simply could not reply to a teacher in such a manner. Abruptly, I stumbled with the truth.

            “He wanted to ask me a question and I thought it would be for the best if I answered him as quietly as possible. After all, I did not want to disturb you.”

            Mr. Tomlinson stroked his chin with his hand. “Well, you do have an intriguing reasoning.” He brought himself up from his office chair and directed himself towards the white board. There was a long meter stick that had never been used before. He picked it up with curiosity. Mr. T eyed the object as if he was scrutinizing it. His hands attempted to bend the wood for some peculiar reason. Finally, Mr. Tomlinson spoke again to me.

            “You know,” he said, “back in the day, teachers could beat you with this.”

            I didn’t know whether he was joking or not but he made my stomach churn as a result. Now it was my turn to ask what he was doing. I nodded my head to his statement.

            “Yeah,” I said.

            “Though it is not exactly in the favor of the school board to have students come home with marks and bruises; so we can just let that one slide.” Mr. T returned the meter stick to its original spot. He then became more serious as any other teacher was expected to be.

            “No, we are not here for a beating. We are here to discuss your grades.”

            My face automatically sent a messaged as if to say ‘here we go again’. My teacher caught that notion and responded to it immediately.

            “Never saw that coming, did you, Harry?”

            I chuckled with him; “No, sir; not in the slightest.”

            “Right then,” Mr. Tomlinson clicked on his mouse a couple times in different areas on the screen. There was no doubt about it that he was pulling up my grades for review. After glancing at the horrific numbers, Mr. T commented.

            “Can you explain to my why you are not passing this class?”

             _Because I keep getting lost in your eyes._  “I’m not sure. Maybe I get distracted more than I think I do.”

            “Well then, if that is the case, I would like you to use the white board on the other wall.” I turned to look at the board to see if there was anything different about it. We had never used that board in class, so I didn’t think it mattered at all. Mr. T continued to order me with his specific punishment for me.

            “I want like you to write ‘I will not pass notes in class’ repeatedly on the board over there.”

Now that was something I did not expect. It had been a long time since I was given this form of punishment. Writing is more of a forced cramp than a disciplinary action to me. I took a look at my teacher once again to ask a question.

“How many times should I write it?”

“Just fill up the board. I’ll tell you when to stop.” With that, Mr. Tomlinson returned to his computer.

I got up from my chair and walked to the board as instructed. Not a word was spoken from that point on. After finding a marker, I uncapped it before doing what had to be done. I had to step up on my tippy-toes but I managed to get to the appropriate height for the punishment. My hand rose up to the top of the board. I began to write.

**I will not pass notes in class.**

**I will not pass notes in class.**

**I will not pass notes in class.**

**I will not pass notes in class.**

**I will not pass notes in class.**

The session continued through the hour. My hand twitched when a cramp would come. I made sure to keep up the pace despite the pain. I didn’t want Mr. Tomlinson to notice anything. Although he was an attractive teacher that only comes once in a lifetime, it would not be the best for me to anger him to an extent. After I had filled up a good ¾of the board, I heard Mr. Tomlinson approach me from the behind. I could tell that he was observing my work.

“You know, normally I would send students down to detention for distracted behavior. I’m glad this worked out.”

“Yeah,” I did not keep my eyes off the board, “right”.

I was in the middle of positioning myself on my tip-toes again when I felt an arm on my shoulder. I could tell that it was my teacher since he was the only guy in the room. Nevertheless, it felt weird.

            “You can stop now,” he notified me and I got down to my feet again. He made me turn to him in order to listen.

“You’ve done a good job. In fact, you’ve done such a good job I believe I should offer you a proposition.”

“Proposition?” I repeated, “What kind of proposition?”

“Oh, nothing; Just extra credit.” He waved his hand as if it was no big deal. To me, it meant more than just a couple points.

“Really? What do I have to do?” I looked to my teacher with an interested gaze. Mr. T caught onto my expression and prolonged his first words. He was stalling just to tick me off and I was well aware of it. He was a good actor. I just did not know what he wanted.

“Ooohh not much. I am not asking for a bunch of paperwork to grade or a presentation to see. I want something a little more … extravagant.”

Now he was getting serious. My teacher kept getting closer and closer to me with every word he announced. It was making me uncomfortable, being his student and all, but it also made me excited. After all, who wouldn’t want to have their crush discussing something very important with them? Let alone doing something completely and utterly not school appropriate. All matters took a turn when Mr. Tomlinson finally pronounced his proposal.

“If you would like, I can get your D to a passing B if …” he was making me wait again.

“If …?” I repeated, showing that I was interested in such a bump in the gradebook.

“Only if you can pay me back with your body.”

My heart dropped in the pit of my chest. Never had I heard of a teacher doing a special something with one of his students. Surely, whatever he was planning had to be well worth what I had to do in order to get the points necessary for my grade to boost. To put it bluntly, you have to do what you’ve got to do. I was willing to comply but not without asking the man a question first.

“What do I have to do?”

“First thing’s first.” Without giving me a moment to think about it, my teacher’s lips pecked at the side of my cheek. “Relax. You don’t have to be afraid. Everything will be fine. I won’t go hard at all.”

I looked up to my teacher. I blinked in response to his assurance. Normally, I would reject such a compromise but this was crucial to my survival in high school. I based my assumption to support my grades.

I said “go ahead.” So we did.

I felt his hand wrap around my waist as he began to kiss me again. He started at my cheek and proceeded down to my jaw bone. Soon, he was picking at the side of my neck. I tried to relax and enjoy the ride, closing my eyes in the process. In response to him grasping the sides of my waist, I let my hands trail up his forearms. I made an attempt to hug him while he puckered at the skin on my neck.

Whilst doing so, he pushed me lightly into the white board that was behind us. I could feel the strands of my hair erasing the words I had written. I paid no mind to it. When he pulled back to look at me, I took the liberty to give him a little piece of my own. My lips headed for his neck. I kissed almost romantically and tried to repress my desire to bite. Mr. Tomlinson gave out a small chuckle and retorted.

“I like naughty students; they’re so cunning; so slovenly.”

I took a break from my passionate actions to reply to him. “And I like it when you use fancy words.” I smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Oh, Harry.” He kissed my forehead. “It’s archaic.”

Who would’ve thought that I would graduate because I got it on with a teacher? I watched Mr. T changed my grade in the gradebook. Surely the secret was safe between me and him. No one would have to find out. Though, I would most definitely thank him at the graduation ceremony. When I looked back at the board I was instructed to write on, I saw the results of just what happened in our passionate time.

**I will not pass notes in class**

**I will not p               in class**

**I will not p               in class**

**I will not p              in class**

As Shakespeare would say,  _he kissed by the book_ ; and it was well worth a B.

**THE END**


End file.
